Tried to post this last night, didn't go up for some reason, hopefully will now.
Blog #2 - So, today kids we'll have the story of my first day volunteering @ the Studio. I spent several hours battling injustice, and slaying a dragon of metal and rubber. You see, located convinently next to the Studio @ 620 is a parking lot which, any logical observer would assume is for the studio itself. Alas, it is not. The lot is owned by the buildings across the street, one half owned by an apartment complex and the other rented out space by space. So even though when parking here you are literally looking through the window of the Studio @ 620, no one is permitted to park there. The owners of the lot apparently have a contract with a local tow company, and they patrol the area like sharks circling. Apparently the mean tow time for cars parking in that lot is 5 minutes. It's a proverbial honey pot for tow...guys. Towers? Here is a form of life one step DOWN from meter maids, on the level of speed-trap-police. Someone whose well being and prosperity is intrinsically tied to the misfortune and detriment of others. If he doesn't ruin your day, his day is wrecked. Someone whose JOB it is to drive around screwing people over.
Anyway, I arrived @ The Studio and, ironically enough, parked my car in the lot. I was warned that even if you are with your car, the tow driver can (And has) park behind you, and demand $50 to move. They're practically highway men! I went inside, and as informed I was to relieve the young man who I had just been speaking to. I also learned that I was only really needed for an hour or so, but upon asking I was told I could stay longer if I wished. Since I'm trying to rack up hours as quickly as possible, I decided to stay the entire four hour period. However, there was no where to sit out there, and it was rapidly growing dark. The task was primarily just standing there, waiting for people to drive in, walking up to their windows and telling them they couldn't park there. Mundane, but nothing terrible if you had a book and a seat. I did have a book, but I lacked a chair or a light by which to read. So, I decided I'd park my car there, both for the light and somewhere to sit. I left myself what I thought was enough room in front that even if the tow truck did pull up behind me, I could still pull forward.
Sadly, I was mistaken. An hour in and I'm telling a woman she can't park, in comes the tow truck. I bolt back to my car, and in a panic pull it forward to get out of the lot via my planned escape route. Slam, crash, scrape. Think Adam West Batman sound effect screens on that. SLAM! CRASH! SCRAAAAPE! Long story short, I scraped the shit out of my car. It was less than ideal.
Then the volunteer I relieved earlier comes out, and apparently he's an advocate of murder for (did we decide Towers earlier?) tow-people. He proceeds to run a 40 minute long hypothetical on the tow guy where he insists he (since his sister is a lawyer!) could win a court case against the tow company for boxing my car in. The entire thing was surreal, I kind of felt "Ok, could both of you go back to doing your jobs so I can go back to doing mine?" Of course with a tow truck parked in the lot no one needed to be notified that they couldn't park there. The tower had other plans though, and took the time to survey the damage to my car, to defend his position and profession, to debate with the other volunteer... I think we saved someone else $150 just by chatting with that tower. Apparently Towers Take Their Time, and that's today's alliteration.
A few interesting points : I was given a job which would be better served by a well-placed sign.
I ended up getting scolded by Winnie for the volunteer that came out to talk to the tow truck driver. Apparently she "needed him urgently" but he was "Dealing with my situation." Apparently dealing with my situation involves engaging the tow truck driver in passive-aggressive conversation for 30+ minutes.
The car wasn't mine, it was my mother's SUV which I was borrowing to get to class earlier since my fiancee was stuck late at work with ours. So to make it all worse, it wasn't even my POS Volvo that got dented/scraped, it was my mother's nice SUV.
And the lesson? Next time, I'm bringing a chair and a flashlight(/ebook reader/game system/battery powered lantern. Seriously, I got this sweet lantern for like $4. Viva the internet!)
Man, getting to 1000 words is a pain sometimes. That's 838. So I went to Wal-Mart, bought a buffer, some buffing compound, took my mom's car and buffed/shined/waxed the whole thing up. The ironic thing is that my mother had already dented the other side of her car, but my new dent was perfectly parallel to the old one. No way to claim them as one accident on insurance. For a brief moment when I saw the dent I rejoiced, thinking I'd damaged the car over the old damage, but no. Opposite sides. So with the car completely cleaned (my mother's a little messy with it), everything shined up, some "new car smell" sprayed, mostly as a joke, I returned the car. It was less than ideal, but I wasn't murdered, so that's good. Oh, also, when I was driving back on the interstate some plastic body piece over the wheel flew up, I had to pull over to the side of the road and reattach it. It's kind of torn but I'm going to get some new clips for it, and maybe with a little glue restore that. Finally over 1000 words, goodnight everyone!
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Wow...really? You really thought you could get away with doing exactly what you were telling other cars not to do? Oh my oh my... I'm sorry that happened, especially for your mother's sake...but it feels like one of those Aesop's fables...a "no duh" kind of lesson learned that could have been easily avoided. The studio has chairs...lots and lots of chairs...just go borrow one next time! :P
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI agree that an appropriately placed and sized sign would avoid the whole nonsense of having to have a parking attendant.
ReplyDeleteHowever, if we must have someone fill that position, here's my plan: make a sign that someone can WEAR (one of those A-shaped signs that have print on both the back and front and can be slipped on so the person's head goes through the top and the arms go out through the sides of the sign--is there a name for it?). The sign, though, for your sake, should have a built-in seat with a lantern attached to it for reading. You and the sign can locate yourself in the middle of the parking lot entrance so that cars will have to be faced with either knocking you down with their cars, or turning around (depends on how badly they want to park in the tow-away zone).
So now the job is left up to the sign and the morality of the people who are trying to find parking spaces for the studio.
problem solved. (?)
Per Ana's comment: the signs are called sandwich boards. Second and third thought ... maybe running an arts venue is not always that glamorous. But what can you learn? What lessons and moral and ideas can be spun from the mundane? The comments here suggest quite a bit!
ReplyDeleteNecessity is the mother of invention, but boredom is the father. A sandwich board with an overhead light, a thermos mount on the side, wide enough for a chair within, elegantly painted, wittily phrased, perhaps equipped with an insulated area for warm sandwiches or beer, and a hook for the mounting of an extension cord.
ReplyDeleteMake the job rock. If you can't make it rock, make it ridiculous.
That sounds awful. I don't know if I have anything positive to say about that. I found myself experiencing the nightmare with you. Perhaps you can take some solace that you conveyed your horror well.
ReplyDeletehmmmm...I think this might be a long semester. But just to clear things up, they do have a sign and I am pretty sure it is a sandwich board. The point here is that people are sometimes stupid BUT Bob Devin Jones wants everyone to have a positive experience at the Studio so that they come back, whether they refuse to heed signs or not.
ReplyDelete-Charlotte Ott
Yeah, that was a pretty stupid move James but I got towed too my first time at the studio os I can't really judge, although to be fair, I was NOT warned.
ReplyDeleteI already relayed my towing story in class, so I will share another one that occurred during my tenure at the University of Florida. I'm not sure if any of you are familiar with Gainesville, but it is a hell hole in terms of parking. There are never any visible signs and every single parking space on campus and in every apartment complex requires you to have a permit costing no less than $300. Even if you are able to save up the $300+ to fork over for a parking space, the permits are nearly impossible to get. You have to have over and under a certain amount of credit hours and have never gotten a ticket... even if you meet these requirements, you are dually warned that they sell far more permits then there are spaces, thus making it impossible to find a parking space.
Anyhow, I was moving from one apartment to another during my third year at UF. I did everything I was told to do; I kept my permit displayed in my windshield for the old complex I was moving out of, and displayed my new one as well since I was driving back and forth with car loads of my things, moving them from one apartment to another.
Almost finished after a day of hell, lugging a ton of crap down three flights of stairs, shoving it in my car, unloading it, and carrying it up 3 more flights of stairs finally to set it in my new place, my boyfriend at the time noticed a tow truck driving into the parking lot. Although I had a valid permit, I dashed downstairs just in case. I jumped into the driver's seat of my car and sure enough, the driver pulled behind me to block my car. I did what any mature, educated 20 year old girl would do: I called my daddy.
My father told me to stay in the car and not to get out under any circumstance. A number of his friends are very prominent employees of the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Office, and they had informed him that it is illegal for a tow truck driver to take your car if you're inside of it before they hook your car up. I did what I was told, and after cracking the window, told the tow truck driver that I had a valid permit, and even if I didn't, he couldn't tow my car. He took a look at the permit, got in the tow truck and proceeded to hook my car. I did what my father instructed me to do next: I called the police.
When they arrived, I explained the situation calmly and rationally. I was in the right after all. He looked at my permit and went to speak with the tow truck driver, who of course lied through his three, gangly, rotten teeth in his ridiculous, twangy accent, telling the officer that my car was hooked before I got into it.
The officer approached my car and I heaved a sigh of relief; finally, this asshole scumbag had to unhook my car and leave me alone, right?
The officer explained that my permit was dated to begin tomorrow. While I was frustrated at the stupidity of the office workers of my complex, I just wanted to be done with the situation. The police officer proceeded to yell at me to get out of my car. I protested loudly, and caused a scene, but the officer simply did not care. He opened my car door, grabbed me by the arm, and PULLED ME OUT OF THE CAR! I couldn't believe it.
There were no cameras, and only one witness had seen the incident. Of course, the new police officer at the scene (who I had called after being assaulted by the first cop) believed both the revolting tow truck driver and his asshole cop friend.
Not only did I get stuck with an $180 fee to get my car out of the impound lot, it was all done completely illegally and I was physically assaulted by a police officer.
This isn't the major reason, or even A major reason for going to law school... but it doesn't hurt my motivation either.